There's A Boy I Know
by fallingthrough11
Summary: Naruto’s finding it increasingly difficult to function as a normal human being, let alone a hormone-ridden teenager, because of a deadly attraction to the Godly, perfect, and most popular guy in school. Eventual SasuNaru Implied SasuSaku


******There's A Boy I Know…**

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Wow, this has come to over 4,400 words. O.o Well, I hope that you enjoy it! And I would really appreciate reviews. (Oh, and favourites are loved too :3)

**Summary:** Naruto's finding it increasingly difficult to function as a normal human being, let alone a hormone-ridden teenager, because of a deadly attraction to the Godly, perfect, and most popular guy in school. Eventual SasuNaru Implied SasuSaku

**Disclaimer**: Because I do not own Naruto, if I did I would be RICH

**Rating**: Rated T for later chapters

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**Chapter One: …And His Name Is Uchiha Sasuke**

His name? His name is Uchiha Sasuke. And he's a boy in my class who sits in front of me.

He never used to sit there. Kakashi-Sensei, our pervy home-room teacher, moved me to the second row not two weeks ago. Said I was too much trouble, sitting all the way at the back there.

My best friend, Gaara, he's still at the back. I swear, he's more trouble than me. You should just take a look at his desk and then you'd know how disturbed he is, what with gothic-insinuating phrases scratched into the surface. Gaara's not a goth, but the kid does go through, like what?, one eye-liner pencil a week. He's hopeless. But then again, we totally have an unshakeable friendship. You could say that the both of us don't fit in. I don't mind, I just drift about. I don't particularly know who i am myself -- am I a punk, a scene kid, a Japanese weirdo?

Honestly.

Regardless to the fairness of the situation, it changes no part of the fact that I have to stare at the back of Uchiha's raven head of hair for fifteen minutes each morning. Five if I'm late. None if I'm_ really_ late.

But today I'm on time.

Unusual, I know. I don't know what's going on with me.

Then I sit one desk away from him in English. He never used to be in my English class, but I got moved up after I scraped a marvellous 'B' on my latest assignment.

English is the only class I'm good at. Correction. English is the only class I care about enough to be bothered with.

So back to the Uchiha Sasuke part.

This doesn't sound much like a conundrum, I know.

But I haven't told you the half of it yet.

Now, I wouldn't be caught dead admitting this to anyone -- not my kind-hearted foster dad, Iruka, not by pervy teacher, not even Gaara -- absolutely no one.

I can't really explain it ... but ... here goes.

When I'm near him weird things happen. Like, take yesterday for example, at lunch, I was lining up in the queue, awaiting to be served the crappy food-stuffs our school tries to pass as edible, when I realise he's lined up behind me. No biggie, it was just a coincidence, there was no reason that he _shouldn't_ line up behind me, after all we went to the same school and saw each other every day.

I went and dropped my tray clean from my hands, my soda hitting the floor, rolling into the maze of tables, and then bursting. A projectile of soda went ten feet over a group of cheerleaders, preps, and nerds. I high-tailed it out of there before anyone could realise I was the culprit. I swear, if Sakura finds out it was my soda that made her top go see-through and ruin her hair for the rest of the day, then let's just say no one will be seeing my scrawny blonde ass for a while; until all the broken bones in my body have healed.

When I was in the locker room, getting changed from gym (Ibiki-Sensei though he'd take the time, one-on-one, to drum into my head that, _no_, baseball bats are _not_ made for whacking footballs to the other side of the field. Well, I thought they were. But he didn't want to know what I thought. So there I was getting changed. I thought everyone had gone home already, and that I'd have the showers to myself, but then I see him, under the spray and it's too late for me to walk back out again because he knows I'm there.

And, ladies and gentlemen, I go and slip on a bar of soap.

I bruise my hip and everything. The next thing I knew was that he was leaning over me, asking me if I was alright -- but what could I say? -- I was _naked_ for crying out loud and he was -- he was -- wet. Very wet. I hope I wasn't blushing.

'I'm alright!' I tried to jump up.

'Well, if you say so,' he said.

And that was that.

They was the most words I'd heard him speak. And he'd spoken to me. Every time I think back I get all shaky. Am I that much of a total, incompetent klutz?

That's what happened yesterday. That's not even counting the time I lit my science book on fire with the bunsen burner because he was suddenly paired with me; or the time I fell out of my desk -- _right_ out of the damn desk -- when I had to get up and read my poem in front of the english class. In front of him. Or the time I flew up the front entrance stairs (the stone ones), landing on my face because he was hanging around up the top with all his preppy idiot friends.

But that was ages ago. I can't really remember the details. If I could, trust me, you'd get a freaking life story.

So let's just say I'm possibly crushing on the hottest guy in the school.

Who am I kidding? There's no _possibility_ about it, I'm infatuated.

At first I didn't want to believe it. I mean, I, Uzumaki Naruto, am far below his league. I don't believe in all that pretentious 'league' stuff anyway, but even I know that when someone like me approaches someone like him, breaking the personal-space-boundaries-of-ten-thousand-metres, I get that look inquiring all very kindly _what the fuck?_. It's sometimes associated with The Look Of Death, Gaara's good at that too, for no real reason. He cracks me up. But you know what I mean, right? It's because I am someone like me, he is someone like him. Our lunch tables are the furthest apart imaginable. You know how the lunch room works. Gaara and I sit together, sometimes his older brother or sister, Kankuro and Temari, will come and join us, but they rarely _come_ to school.

Not only that.

I am a guy. He is a guy. That is a problem.

It's a problem for more reasons than one, but the one at the top of my list at the moment is the one involving Sasuke having this girlfriend, you see. You remember I talked about Sakura? The cheerleader? She's his girlfriend. They've been going out since our second year, that's five years, and apparently they're stronger than a knot, apparently they're going to get married or something when school's over.

I heard that Sasuke has a very traditional family. I don't know about Sakura. Hopefully they're just rumours. Sakura probably spread them, she's good at throwing things out of proportion.

Today's a Wednesday. Slap bang in the middle of the week. There's nothing spectacular about Wednesdays. Oh, and I have double English at the end of the day.

That's where I am at the moment, sitting at my desk, continuing a series of doodles on the cover of my textbook, waiting for the teacher and the other half of the class to show up.

One thing you'd probably like to know is that I'm never early.

_Ever_.

It feels a bit weird actually. Not having to run in on the class, spit out a breathless excuse and hope I haven't pissed off the teacher too badly.

Do I even like Sasuke? … I mean, what if it's just raging hormones of the teenage kind? What if I'm just messed up in the head … What's so special about him anyway? …

Okay, Neji's just walked in, Sasuke's not usually far behind. They sit together at lunch, so he should be coming through the door right about no—

Neji takes a seat somewhere around my right, I don't take much notice. There's a damned seating plan in this class, I'll have you know.

A stream of other people enter: a kid named Kiba who I get on reasonably well with, the lazy-ass Shikamaru slinking in mid-yawn, a blonde-haired girl named Ino. She's a cheerleader like Sakura, I think they're best friends or something … there's Hinata, Lee, someone, someone – what? Do you expect me to remember everyone's names? … Then there's no one. Where's Sasuke?

I get a polite nudge in the shoulder and look to my right to see Neji giving me a really weird, really what-the-fuck look.

Oh God, had I just asked that out loud? Shit.

'Take them,' he said.

I see he's holding a wad of pink flyers. I look behind me and everyone's got a pink flyer, whether they were reading it or scrunching it up or launching it, aeroplane style across the room.

'_Take them_,' he stressed.

'Alright, alright,' and I take them, take one, then pass it on to the Kiba kid who's on my other side.

It wasn't _that_ weird to enquire aloud the status of an absent classmate … was it?

In walks Kakashi-Sensei, a half-zipped case in one hand, spilling with paper, and an armful of more paper that looked a lot like graded assignments. The class' eyes followed him, glued.

'Sir?' asked Kiba, arms stretched over the front of his desk. 'Where's Kurenai-Sensei?'

'She's ill. I'll be taking your class today.'

This is just great. As far as I'm concerned, Kakashi's got about as much literary awareness as a sandwich. The guy's a science teacher.

I peek over my shoulder and see every desk occupied; a few people look at me and I turn back. I don't want to stare, they'll think I'm an idiot. Sasuke's the only one missing, he's _never—_

—The door bursts open to reveal the very dark-haired boy occupying my thoughts, and I can't help but notice the strange, sudden, turn of events.

It was he who was supposed to be on time, sitting calmly at his desk, book open, and I was supposed to be flushed and rushed and in no possession of a book, let alone a pen or even an inclinations of _what_ lesson I had walked in on.

'Sorry I'm late …' he muttered, eyes scanning for an empty seat.

I see Neji wave a hand to the empty desk on his right and Sasuke, face blank and the tips of his cheekbones tinged pink, strides over and slid in silently. He drops his bag on the floor, noiselessly removing a pad and textbook and pen.

Kakashi-Sensei seems surprised, and that is a rarity where he is concerned. He stands there, saying nothing, and it's obvious that he's trying to work out what on earth had happened to his best pupil. And whether or not he could ask and get a satisfactory reply in front of the class.

Sasuke's the smartest guy in the school – it's official, it's not just me complimenting him or anything. There's a golden plaque outside the principal's office; he got 99% in all his lessons last year. Apparently the 1% had something to do with a Pythagoras-Theory question where he couldn't be bothered to show his working out, he'd done it in his head.

Kakashi-Sensei coughs, deciding _not_ to ask. I imagine Sasuke would just come out with something like, 'It won't happen again.' or 'I was with Tsunade-Sensei.' That way, the teacher gets an excuse where, to find out more information, has to go directly to said teacher, and the class stays out of the loop – which is the best way to avoid unnecessary gossip. Especially when you like to be as mysterious as Sasuke.

The next thing I know I've got a stapled wad of paper slapped on my desk, making me jump.

'Stay with us, Uzumaki. This is English, not La La Land.'

La La Land, the fucking bastard.

He moves down the aisle and I turn the paper the right way up. It takes me a few seconds for what the red felt tip reads to sink into my brain.

_A+_

There was no mistaking it. The page was covered in ticks and constructive comments.

What the fuck?

What the?

'Uzumaki?' calls Kakashi-Sensei in his lazy voice, currently handing Hinata her work. 'Is there a problem?'

I really need to work on my saying-thoughts-aloud complex!

'No. My assignment – it's … I've …'

Kakashi-Sensei is now peering over my shoulder, a frown on his face.

Before I could get another word out of my mouth, I see his expression change. He stands up straighter.

I don't like the way he's looking at me. It's as if he's … _angry_.

'_Naruto_,' his tone is warning. 'You have crossed the line this time. Crossed it, young man. You – you –'

Now, I've had enough experience with these kinds of situations, which is why I'm already standing up and backing away, slowly, like with a hungry tiger.

I step back. Is it all the pranks I used to pull or does he just not like me?

Kakashi's eyes are dangerous.

'I don't know _how_,' he breathed, 'you managed to … _forge_ … _hand_ in a plagiarised essay! Did you buy it on the internet? Or bribe a better student to write it? Swap the names – ah! – you know what, never mind. Don't even tell me. Get out of the classroom. Now. You'll be explaining yourself to Tsunade-Sensei.'

I go for the door – straight for it, no arguing, no messing around. Unlike most other teachers, when you piss off Kakashi he retaliates quietly, slowly, deceptively-controlled. The guy was fucking scary. Usually I would have come back with something – got myself a one-way ticket to detention, but I just haven't been in the mood lately.

As I open the door, a ball of paper comes flying over my shoulder, bouncing off the corridor wall. I shut the door with a soft _click_.

I sigh.

When had I been holding my breath?

Waiting outside Tsunade-Sensei's office is no new thing for me. There's a line of empty seats and I take the one second away from the door.

Shizune, the principal's assistant, gazes up from her computer.

'Hey, Naruto,' she says kindly. 'So what's it this time? Graffiti the fountain? Break a locker? Insult Ebisu-Sensei with your uniform?'

'Hey!' I say, only playing at being taken-aback. 'That _graffiti_ was art, and the locker was an accident.'

'Your uniform,' she began, and then her tone softened. 'Oh, it's alright today. Let me guess? Kakashi-Sensei forced you to sort it out?'

She looks up again, this time seeming kind of … sympathetic? Anyway I concentrate on unravelling my scrunched-up assignment.

'Are you alright?'

'I'm fine,' I say, and then cringe inwardly at how unconvincing I sound.

But I really am fine!

The next few minutes pass, the silence broken only by the tapping of her fingers on the keyboard.

Before I realise it, I'm reading my assignment – or _the _assignment – it must be a mix up. I've never got an A+ in my life. I'm not the type to keep my head in a book. And Kurenai-Sensei would have hopped, skipped, jumped off of a cliff before marking my work that high.

_Compare and contrast the way Ryosuke and Oyazaki use metaphor and other literary devices in their work._

Yeah, I remember writing about that. It was a pretty bland topic, it was open and could go anywhere, so I narrowed it down, which basically meant I didn't have to read as much as the class was required. I think I picked the two shortest stories in the anthology; and after that all that really matters is your opinion, and as long as I could justify mine it was plain sailing.

'Excuse me,' came a cool voice. 'Shizune-Sensei? Kakashi-Sensei told me to give this to you.'

I peer up over the assignment.

'Oh,' says Shizune, looking surprised. She takes the strip of paper he has and reads it carefully. 'Uchiha – um … er, take a seat then …'

She looks over at the seats, where I am, and Uchiha takes his time turning around.

Our eyes meet for a moment and he sits down two away from me, a fucking wharf of a distance. He doesn't acknowledge me and I don't him. The bastard. I go back to reading my assignment.

It takes _years_ for Tsunade-Sensei to open her door and poke her head out, her blonde hair slipping from over her shoulder.

'Uzumaki,' she sighs. 'Dear Lord, come on.'

I stand up and she holds out an arm, issuing me inside her office. A few steps in, I expect to hear the door shut as per usual, but this time she doesn't.

I turn around.

'Uchiha? I told you any matters concerning the Fête Comity is to be debated after school tomorrow at four—'

'No,' came Shizune's voice, 'um, er – Tsunade …'

I hear footsteps and rustling of paper and some indistinguishable mutterings. Then:

'Fine, Uchiha, you too.'

She held out her arm and he came floating in, scowl set on his pristine face.

From over his shoulder, she looks concerned, almost worried. But that disappears instantly.

'Take a seat. Both of you.'

She moves over to stand behind her desk, then she sits in her high-back chair and starts to tidy some papers.

'_Now_.'

I sit down like lightening. Uchiha slides into the other chair.

Oh God, when did it get so awkward? I squirm a bit, the chair is really uncomfortable and the cushion is hard and itchy even through my pants and underpants.

Tsunade-baka waits for a while, giving me a deliberately threatening stare over the top of her inter-locked fingers. It's only to intimidate me, it worked the first few times but now I just sigh and let it go over my head.

Apparently Uchiha has adopted something of the same attitude – I can't read him though – he could be thinking anything.

I feel a smirk rise to my lips as I realise one, meandering, thing we currently have in common – this is a waste of time.

'So, according to this,' she opens her hands and I see the slip of paper, '_someone_ has been meddling with the assignments. I hope, Uzumaki, that you understand the seriousness of the situation. If this is another of your pranks then it's clearly backfired...'

Now I've spaced out. I've gone back to looking at the abused papers in my hands … there's a brown-coloured ring in the bottom left hand corner, where I vaguely remember Iruka putting his coffee cup at breakfast the morning I handed it in. I flip through discreetly, and see the corner of the second page ripped off; I'd put my chewing gum in that.

'—could get expelled for this—'

'—What? Who? _Expelled_?'

That's one thing that I cannot ignore. My brain will not physically allow it. Iruka would kill me! And I don't want to get expelled.

'This is my assignment!' I say, shaking the paper frantically.

'It's too late for that. I'm sorry, Uchiha-san. Kakashi-Sensei has made it clear just what has happened. I will make sure you get your deserved grade, your record will remain spotless, and _you_ will get the grade you deserve. You'll be moved down to your usual class too.'

At that, there came a noise from the chair Uchiha was occupying, like a cross between a snort and a laugh.

Finally, Uchiha was responding. His bangs of black hair hang in his face though, and I can't see him.

It's quite amusing at the expression on Tsunade-Sensei's face, it's as if she couldn't believe he had just been rude.

'It's his.'

Suddenly, Uchiha leans over and I don't know what he's about to do, so I automatically reel back, but he's already snatched the paper from my hands.

'Don't you get it? Look at it, it's yellow, it's stained, ripped … this is his.'

'Thanks for the anti-compliment, bastard…'

Tsunade-Sensei is looking sternly at us both, leaning heavily back in her chair.

'What grade?' she asks.

'A+,' we say.

'No,' she shakes her head, 'the one Uchiha was given back.'

There was a pause.

'D-,' he says with a complete lack of emotion.

Tsunade-Sensei stiffened for a moment. 'So my best student got a D- while my worst went and got an A+. Either Kurenai-san is out of her mind, or something else is afoot here. I don't like it, whatever it is. I'll be talking to her when she gets back from maternity leave.' She seems to be doing some serious thinking. 'So there's only one way to get to the bottom of this. You two will re-do the assignment tomorrow after school. Consider it an unofficial detention.'

With the threat of expulsion off of my head, and the pizza-scented air of the empty corridor in my lungs, I realise I had just spent the hour in the principal's office _with Uchiha Sasuke_.

He's such a bastard.

And he still has my assignment!

Argh … Well, it's no use trying to find him now, he high-tailed it out of the office before I could blink.

He's probably halfway home already.

As for me, I have detention. You remember I said something about a fountain? That involved graffiti? Yeah, well, I did that months ago, and I'm still paying the price for it. This sucks, only three more to go.

I knock on the door, 307, and there is Ibiki standing near the window with his arms behind his back. This guy is huge, and at first he was quite intimidating, what with the scars on his face – no wonder they use him for detentions. You can see some first-years pissing themselves when he gives them _the look_.

'Naruto, you're fifteen minutes late.'

'I was with Tsuna—'

'—Just sit down, boy.'

I sit in the usual desk, and begin my ritual of daydreaming. The sun beyond the window is lowering earlier than usual, because it's nearing winter, and the half-skeletons of trees stand against the sky, lit from behind. I love daydreaming.

Ibiki-Sensei and I are the only ones in the room.

After a while I feel myself growing drowsy, and he sits on the desk, and starts throwing an apple up and down.

'You've only got two more to go, then hopefully I won't see you here again.'

Was he trying to start up a conversation?

'Yeah,' I say, tired.

'I'm serious, Naruto.'

I consider telling him about the 'unofficial detention' I had for tomorrow, but I decide against it. Ibiki-Sensei's one of those teachers that understands what rules matter and when it's okay to ignore them. For some reason I don't want him to think bad of me.

He moves over to the door and I didn't really take any notice of him, until he clears his throat.

He's holding the door open.

Suddenly I'm full of energy. I jump out of the desk and over to the door.

'Thanks, Ibiki-Sensei!'

'Whatever. Go on then. Don't let Tsunade see you.'

'You don't need to tell me.' I check the corridor and the coast is clear.

I give him one last 'thanks' and head for the English department, which is basically on my way out anyway.

When I get there, though, the door's locked, the light's off, and the blind is down. I peer through the gap and try to see if my bag's still there, but it's no use.

Oh well, I'll just have to get it in the morning.

I go outside, and here is the point where I wish the ground would swallow me into another world.

Uchiha Sasuke is standing there, leaning against the temple pole at the top of the stairs, orange light from the streetlight filtering over him. For some reason my stomach does something stupid. From his finger a stream of smoke issues up into the air.

He notices me, his face impassive.

'You smoke?'

'So?'

I mentally shake out of it. So what if he smokes? It's his body … and a small, very small, part of me imagines that maybe the reason he smokes is because he looks good when doing it.

My feet are carrying me away from him before my brain could give them the signal to do anything.

'Wait,' he says.

I stop and look over my shoulder. He throws the cigarette on the ground and toes it till it goes out.

'I got your bag for you.'

He nods to the low stone wall and I see the familiar bag sitting there, with doodles and badges perfectly intact.

'Oh, t-thanks.'

I sling it over one shoulder.

Uchiha puts his hands deep into his pockets, walking a bit towards me.

'You think I waited out here for no reason?'

'Well – I – uh …'

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which I recognised instantly as my assignment. Stupid assignment.

And I stuff it in my bag. That's enough of that.

'You really should sort out that problem you have.'

'What problem?' I say irritably.

'You're mumbling, talking to yourself.'

'Oh. That. Yeah, I do that a lot.'

The sounds of a horn blares through the air, startling me. His eyes darken a little as he frowns and peers over the side of me. I turn and see there's a motorbike just pulling up, a sleek and expensive-looking one.

I turn back and he's already disappeared.

When he gets to the steps I watch him stop, his shoulders square. He turns around casually, 'Have you got a ride?'

'Yeah,' I say automatically. 'Thanks.'

'You sure?'

I'm pretty sure he doesn't offer lifts to people often at all. And anyway, there's no way three people can fit on the back of the bike.

I'm still standing there when he's gone, the bike's driven off, and I can't even hear it down the road anymore.

I get my hoodie out of my bag – stripy! – and shove it on, glad of the extra layer. Time to begin the walk home.

The cold air blows in my hair and it's quite a relief. Now that I'm alone, truly alone, for the hour or so it takes to get to my front door, I can't help but think back over the day. I'd encountered Sasuke, and there is undoubtedly no question about it – I do have a problem, the kind that would involve me turning to brain-dead jelly if I let it get the better of me, and it's not just going to go away by itself.

**

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****To Be Continued :P**


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